Until I Go
by Insanity Studios Ink
Summary: Oneshot written for Suicide Prevention Day. Pardon the title, I'm brain-dead and tired. Warnings for character death.


_This story is written for World Suicide Prevention Day. Please read the A/N at the bottom._

~~oo00oo~~

Hiccup picked himself off the ground, wincing as the concrete sent pain shooting through his body. Carefully, he checked himself for any serious injuries. The worst was a cracked rib, or at least what felt like one, courtesy of a kick by Snotlout.

This was just another day for Hiccup. Go to school, get beat up; go home, get ignored. Another day, another month, another year. It was all the same.

Limping down the road to the school, he got through the door just before the late bell rang. He sighed. Great, late for homeroom again. And to top it all off, someone had written 'Useless' on his locker. After putting his bag in his locker and collecting his books, he trudged to his first class of the day.

"Late, Mr. Haddock." Mr. Jorgenson said.

Spitelout Jorgenson, Snotlout's father, was Hiccup's homeroom teacher. He hated the small boy, and did his best to humiliate him in class.

"S-sorry, sir. I f-fell." he mumbled, eyes on the floor.

"Lunch detention." he snapped, "For skipping class, and...lying to a teacher."

"Ye-yes, s-sir."

He took his seat while the class laughed, led by his cousin.

Mr. Jorgenson started to collect homework, and paused when he reached his nephew's desk. The teacher scrawled _Late_ on the top of it, smirking.

"Tsk, tsk. Another 'F'. I wonder what your father will say?"

Hiccup said nothing, staring at his desk.

"His father is already disappointed to call Useless his son." Snotlout said, and the class laughed again.

Hiccup stared at his desk, feeling tears prickle at the corner of his eyes. He shut them tight, refusing to allow Snotlout the privilege of seeing him cry. He was determined not to cry in school.

The rest of the day was the same. Snotlout and his goons took every chance they had to make him miserable, each action getting bolder and more violent.

Finally, at lunch, his cousin and one of his cronies, Dogsbreath, cornered him at his locker.

"Hey, Useless. Whacha' doin'?"

"Please, Snotlout, please don't." Hiccup begged.

Snotlout laughed at him, throwing a fist into his stomach. Dogsbreath followed with a swift uppercut that had the small boy crumpling to the ground. The two of them then took turns kicking, punching, and stomping on him.

Hiccup lay on the ground, whimpering and gasping with each hit. Tears had started to leak down his face, and Snotlout noticed this.

"Hey, look! Useless is crying!" he said. "Why don't we give him something to cry about?"

Dogsbreath grunted in agreement, and the two of them picked up the beaten boy and shoved him in his locker. Just before they closed the door, Hiccup's cousin noticed his sketchbook.

"Ooh, Hiccup's got a diary. Maybe he was writing about being a fag."

They opened it eagerly, and were disappointed to find only drawings. Snotlout ripped the pages from it, laughing as he saw Hiccup's expression. Hiccup could see a drawing of Astrid on the floor, smiling up at him.

Dogsbreath slammed the locker door, his head bouncing off the door with a painful _crack_. He was crammed in a locker, every part of his body aching, with blood dripping off his face onto his books and his only joy laying shredded and scattered in the hallway.

He started crying, tired of holding it back. Like a dam breaking, it all fell apart. He was sobbing, tears pouring down his face. He knew no-one was in the halls, the students were in the cafeteria and the teachers in the staff room.

As if the world were trying to prove him wrong, a pair of footsteps echoed down the hall. Hiccup started feebly banging on the cold metal, trying to get their attention.

"Help, please, let me out!" he croaked.

The footsteps continued toward him.

"Please, let me out, please!"

They paused abruptly in front of his locker, then slowly moved toward him.

"Oh, thank you! Thank you!"

There was a rustle of paper, and then the footsteps continued onward.

"No, please! Let me out!"

He had started crying again, his breath coming in great heaves that pained his ribs.

"Pl-plea-se..."

The footsteps faded into the distance.

It only got worse from there. After kind-hearted Mrs. Ack let him out of the locker, he rushed to gather his papers off the floor make an excuse for Mr. Jorgenson. He received a week's worth of detentions for 'Lying to a teacher twice in one day,' and could not find the drawing of Astrid. The person in the hallway must have taken it.

The only positive part of his day was when he stayed after to help Gobber in the Shop. His uncle-in-all-but-blood let him eat his untouched lunch, and told him to just relax and take a break.

"Get some rest, do yer' homework." he told him, and waved off all other attempts to help from the boy.

So Hiccup did. He spent the next few hours swapping banter with Gobber, playful insults thrown around the room. He managed to catch up on his homework, and left The Forge in much better spirits that he had arrived in.

When he arrived home, he found he had precious little left to do. He had all of his homework done, his five-page essay on skipping class from Mr. Jorgenson was finally finished, and he had no extra-curriculars to worry about.

He checked his phone, just to see if his dad might have texted him. Nothing. Stoick Haddock, a prominent congressman, was always otherwise occupied. But there was one notification.

Today was Astrid Hofferson's birthday. He logged on to his Facebook account to wish her a happy birthday, but he was quickly distracted. People had left messages on his page.

 **No one likes you, Hiccup.**

 **i hate u NERD**

 **ur useless**

 **why don't you just go back to the hole you came from**

 **Your dad must be so disappointed**

 **i bet your mom just couldnt wait to get away from you**

 **not even a mother could love Useless**

Hiccup felt tears start to gather in his eyes.

 **Useless, that's what you are**

 **nobody wants u around**

 **just go die in a hole**

 **Why dont you go kill yourself, Useless**

 **DIE**

The words kept echoing through his head.

Die

That's what he wanted to do.

Die

That's what he would do.

Die

He found some extra-strength narcotics in his mother's med cabinet.

Die

The pencil scratched across the paper as he wrote the note.

Die

Long fingers tapped across the keys while his eyes blurred with tears. _Message sent_

DIE

 **Goodbye**

Astrid's phone binged. She pulled it up, and read the message. Her eyes widened.

Trembling hands unscrewed the lid.

DIE

He crushed the pills and mixed it in water.

DIE

He drank it.

 _DIE_

And sat on the floor, waiting.

 _DIE_

Astrid ran faster than she ever had. This wasn't track, this was life and death. She pushed herself harder.

His stomach writhed in pain; he retched.

DIE

He could feel his heart speeding up, racing toward death.

DIE

He vomited, the liquid red with blood. His throat burned.

DIE

Curled into a ball, he wimpered in pain.

DIE

It would be over soon, he told himself. It would be over soon.

DIE

'Please don't let it be over,' Astrid prayed, 'Please let him be alive.'

His phone binged.

 **Hes lying**

 **LIAR**

 **go wallow in self-pity somewhere else**

He laughed, loudly and maniacally. They would see.

DIE

She saw. She saw how his death would effect them.

His vision began to dim. He closed his eyes, and waited.

DIE

Astrid barged in the house. "Hiccup? HICCUP!"

His angel had arrived to take him away.

~~oo00oo~~

After a week in the hospital, Hiccup died of complications from his attempt. His funeral was private, and yet almost the entire town showed up. The saying 'You don't know what you have until you lose it.' rang true for everyone in the small town of Berk.

In the aftermath, many things changed. Spitelout Jorgenson was investigated for gross teacher misconduct. His teaching license was revoked and he spent two years in jail. He died and old man full of guilt.

The Thorston twins, who had verbally bullied Hiccup, lived with their guilt for their lives. Neither on lived long, and neither one died happy.

Gobber blamed himself. In his grief, he turned to the drink, and died years later of alcohol poisoning.

Stoick grieved for weeks, before following his son in an early death.

Snotlout struggled for years with his guilt, and became an angry man, before finally going to therapy. After months of intensive counseling, he recovered. He planted a tree at Hiccup's grave and spent the remainder of his life holding anti-bullying events at schools around the country. All profit was donated to the improvement of suicide help.

Astrid Hofferson spent many a year trying to forgive herself. Hiccup had said in his letter that he forgave them, all of them, but it wasn't as easy for her. Eventually, she did. Every day, she would go to Hiccup's grave, and take care of the tree. She planted flowers in the spring, and tended to them, too.

~~oo00oo~~

Many years later, when her hair was white, and her skin wrinkled, she still puttered about, weeding and watering. The tree had grown to be a large willow, its leaves gently kissing her face as the wind blew.

She sighed. The younger folk thought her a lonely person, but she knew she wasn't. Although she had remained single, she always felt that Hiccup was there, by her side, and that was enough for her. She could almost see him, smiling his crooked grin as he kissed her hair.

With a smile on her face, she leaned back against his tree. She was quite content with her life. It had been quite the adventure, with Hiccup watching over her. She had never felt more loved than she did now, and that made her feel warm.

She pulled the drawing out of her pocket. Eighty years later, and she still had it. It was Hiccup's drawing of her that she had picked up in the hallway, on that fateful day all those years ago. She smiled at it. Oh, to look young and beautiful again.

She was tired, oh so tired. Her eyes fell closed, and she could hear the willow swishing in the evening breeze. It was so peaceful.

"Hello Astrid, my angel."

~~oo00oo~~

 _Bullying is a big issue, these days. Now, with our current technology, it has become easier, oh so easier, to push someone to the brink of suicide without ever saying a word._

 _To the bullies: This is not okay. I get it; sometimes, life throws you a crappy hand, and you just want to lash out at people. Maybe you're dealing with abuse, or neglect, but that doesn't pardon your sins. If you are having problems, **get help**. Don't wait until you turn into a bully. _

_To the ignorers: To me, you are just as much at fault as the bullies. In this fic, Astrid was just as much responsible for Hiccup's death as Snotlout was. Don't just stand there, please. Be supportive. Stand up against the bullying. Imagine what might have happened if Astrid had helped him in the halway, instead of walking on. This might never have happened._

 _To the bullied, and the ones who embrace death: Stop for a minute and think. Look back at the story, and see how many people Hiccup left behind. Look at how many people he touched in his life. And look at your life. Look at how many people you would leave behind. Family, friends. Parents, siblings, grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins, friends, teachers, even people you don't really know. Look at how many people you have touched in your life. Perhaps it's the old lady down the street, who you help. Maybe it's the kid in school who's always looked up to you, and yet is too shy to tell you. And maybe, just maybe, you'll do great things in life. Marry. Have kids. Grandkids. Cure cancer, or dementia. Travel to Mars. How will you know, unless you live to see?_

 _So get help. It doesn't even have to mean drugs and psych hospitals. Talk to friends. Parents. Call the suicide hotline. Talk to someone, please. The world becomes a dimmer place with each life that is extinguished. 'But I'm just a spark, now. I have no light.' you say. Is is not the spark that ignites a raging inferno to light up the night? You are important to someone, even if it's just to me. I love each and every one of you guys, and I couldn't stand to lose just one of you._

 _So here is my message. Every day, we are given choices. Right or wrong, good or bad. It is up to you to make them, and no one can make them for you. You can choose to help, or to shun. Heal, or to maim. For your sake, I hope you choose well._


End file.
